


At the End of All Things

by DiverseMediums, takemeawaytocamelot



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:56:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverseMediums/pseuds/DiverseMediums, https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemeawaytocamelot/pseuds/takemeawaytocamelot
Summary: Nurse Claire Beauchamp finds herself in a sticky situation in the middle of World War II. Captain James Fraser is there to get her back to her base, safe and sound. What happens in their time alone will surprise them both.





	At the End of All Things

Claire offered a smile to the man who gave her the tray of rations for her evening meal. She sat down with a pleased sigh, thankful to be off her feet for a few minutes. Between training a handful of young nurses and doing the rounds with the patients in the medical tent, she was exhausted. A few moments to herself was all she needed. Looking down at the unappealing mass, she picked up her utensils and began eating. The sound of approaching boots made her look up, only to roll her eyes.

Before she could object, he slid into the seat across from her. Doing her best to ignore him, she ate quietly. They’d had a few run-ins over the last several days.  He treated her the same way most other men on the base treated her, which irritated her. When he’d brought one of his men into the medical tent for treatment, he’d pointedly asked where the doctor was. She should be used to it by now, but she wasn’t.

Fraser took a few large bites before  setting down his utensils to greet her properly.

“Nurse Beauchamp,” said the tall Scot. 

“Captain Fraser,” she replied, returning her attention to her food.

“How is Corporal Mackenzie? Has the doctor been by to look in yet?”

Claire carefully set her cup down.

“No, not yet.”

“Ah,” Fraser replied, fingers tapping on the rim of his own mug. “I’m concerned about infection.”

Claire immediately bristled and fixed him with a cold stare.

“I stitched him up myself, Captain.”

“Aye,” he said, taking a long drink of water. “I ken that. I was there holdin’ him down.”

“Then I’m not sure why you’re asking if the doctor has seen to him. Unless you don’t find my work sufficient.”

Rather than let him speak, Claire stood and took her tray to the wash bucket. 

“I didna mean to run ye off, Nurse Beauchamp,” Fraser called to her.

She tossed a sour smile over her shoulder before returning to the medical tent.

* * *

“Nurse Beauchamp!”

Claire looked up from the nightly inventory list to the officer running up to her.

“Yes?”

“There’s been an attack at another base. They need help.”

Instinct took over even as her heart rate leapt. This wasn’t her first emergency situation, but the surge of adrenaline still made her hands shake.

“Of course.”

Grabbing a medical bag, she followed the young officer to the waiting vehicle. Three people were already loaded and waiting. Two men she recognized but wasn’t sure of their names. The third was Captain Fraser. No matter her feelings for the man, she had a job to do. 

As she got into the empty seat, she could feel his eyes on her.  He watched her quietly and looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but chose not to.

_ All the better _ , she thought. The last thing she needed was another verbal sparring match while they rushed off to aid their comrades.  If the other base needed medical help, why was Captain Fraser coming?

“Do we know what happened?” Claire called over the roar of the engine.

The driver, Private Grady, kept a tight grip on the wheel as they sped down the dirt road.

“Not sure,” he yelled back. “We got a message about a massive influx of casualties. Don’t know more than that.”

“Do you-”

She never got to finish her question. The dark night around them exploded into sudden brilliance as the Jeep was thrown off the road. When she opened her eyes, she was crouching in a ditch, dirt  gritted in her teeth . A steady ringing in her ears made it nearly impossible to hear anything around her, except the screaming.

Somewhere nearby, a man was in agony. Instinct had her trying to scramble to her feet, desperate to help. A large, strong hand gripped her left shoulder and pushed her down.  The heat of it surprised her, making her realize how cold her own hands had become.

“Dinna move,” whispered a voice behind her. “It isne safe.”

The hand released her and she turned her head to see Captain Fraser crouched beside her.  He was strung tight as a bowstring, ready to snap at a moments notice. As far as she could tell in the poor light, he wasn’t outwardly injured and he didn’t seem to move with any restriction. But  her head throbbed and she leaned back against the side of the ditch, closing her eyes. 

“Stay with me, Beauchamp,” Fraser said gruffly. “Dinna go to sleep just yet.”

“It’s just… just for… a moment…”

He grabbed her again and shook her a little. Pain shot through her right side and she slapped a hand over her mouth to mute her cry. Fraser’s eyes went wide with awareness, his hands turning her to face him fully. That was when she noticed the small chunk of metal stuck out of her right shoulder.

“Oh God,” she said, feeling strangely faint  as black spots danced in front of her eyes . 

“Hold it together, Beauchamp. Ye’ve seen worse, no?”

Eyes locked on the shrapnel, she nodded slowly. Yes, she’d seen worse as well as what had happened after such injuries.

A searchlight moved overhead and she bit down any sound that might attract attention. Fraser looked around them, blue eyes calculating. German shouts were interrupted by the staccato sounds of gunfire. The screaming across the road suddenly stopped. The silence was nearly painful and Claire felt bile rise in the back of her throat.  Fraser pulled her to him, tucking her further into the ditch and blocking her with his body. 

“Ye couldne help him,” Fraser whispered , mouth brushing her ear . “Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Aye, that’s it.”

Claire balled her fists, willing herself to keep from shaking. The searchlights fanned the field beyond their hiding place and she could see Fraser’s pulse pounding in his throat.  She was the nurse, dammit, she should be tending to him!

“Are…” she took a deep breath. “Are you alright? Any injuries?”

Fraser shook his head.

“I’m fine. Dinna fash.”

Hours dragged by, marked by the increased throbbing in her shoulder.  Neither wanted to risk the mess and noise by removing the shrapnel.  Forcing her mind to work through the haze of pain, she recalled they were missing the last man from their Jeep. 

“What happened to…” squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to remember the other man’s name. 

Fraser’s eyes were bright in the darkness as he met her gaze.

“Dinna ken.”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” she snapped as quietly as she could.

Fraser licked his lips and took a breath.

“Dead.”

“So… it’s just us?”

“Aye. Now stay quiet. We’re no’ safe yet.”

Safe. That word had no place here. There was no way to be safe on a battlefield or in the middle of the war that consumed the world.

When Fraser shrugged out of his coat, she frowned at him.

“What are you-”

“You’re shivering, Beauchamp. Just stay awake and stay quiet.”

With his thick coat draped around her, she set her mind to blocking out as much of the pain as she could.  Focusing on one sense at a time, she constructed a wall around the near blinding pain. The air around her was thick with smoke from the burning Jeep. Beside her, Fraser’s breathing was slow and steady. Her mouth tasted of dirt, salt, and soot. The ground beneath her was cool and damp, almost soft to the touch. Opening her eyes, she focused on the curling ends of Fraser’s auburn hair. He was due for a military trim soon or he’d be in violation of the dress code.

“Beauchamp,” rasped a Scottish voice several hours later,  breaking her from her dazed thoughts . “It’s time to move.”

For a moment, she forgot about her injured shoulder and tried to push herself up. Her cry of pain was silenced by Fraser’s large, warm hand covering her mouth.

“We need to take that out,” he said quietly.

“But it’s stopping the bleeding,” she answered him, trying not to look at the metal fragment. 

Fraser looked around quickly.

“We can tie it off, but it needs to come out now.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded and struggled to sit up. After untying her tie, she handed it to him and began to unbutton her uniform. He would need access to her shoulder to pull the metal fragment out. A sharp intake of breath froze her in place, fear prickling down her spine. But when she looked at Fraser, she frowned in confusion. Captain Fraser was studiously avoiding looking at her, his gaze fixed on the ground between them.

“I imagine it’ll be difficult to remove the shrapnel if you won’t look at me.”

The image of the self-assured captain vanished as he met her eyes for a moment.

“Ah… Aye.”

“Whatever’s the matter?” she asked, pulling her good arm out of her sleeve. She began working the buttons on her uniform shirt and shrugged out of it as well.

Fraser shifted where he sat, growing visibly uncomfortable.

“Captain? It’ll be easier for you with my uniform out of the way.”

“Aye… I’m sure…”

Squinting, she wished she could see his face more clearly.

“Are you… My God, are you  _ blushing _ ?!”

Fraser huffed and glared at her for a moment.

“I’m no’ in the business of ogling my peers, Beauchamp,” he replied gruffly, breaking eye contact.

“Oh, ogling is it?” she teased, enjoying how the tips of his ears had turned pink. “Most of the men I’ve met at our station wouldn’t think twice if…”

Fraser’s eyes snapped to hers, the look in them stopping her remark in its tracks.

“I am not most men,” he said shortly. 

Claire swallowed, her own cheeks burning red.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, looking away. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He exhaled slowly, then nodded, giving her a tired half smile.

“Forgiven, lass,” he said. “We should get on wi’ this, though. I dinna ken when we’ll have another chance. Are ye ready?”

“Jes suis prest,” Claire sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Fraser froze in place for a moment, his eyes going wide. Claire opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but he shook his head.

He crouched down beside her, gently settling the weight of his knees on her thighs to keep her lower half immobile. His arm wrapped around her back, hand reaching to press her elbow snugly against her side to keep it steady. Once more, his eyes met hers.

“I’ll need to cut ye a bit to get it out easier.”

A small knife emerged from his pocket and Claire gritted her teeth as he made two quick cuts, widening the wound. 

“Ready?”

Claire nodded shortly.

“Yes.”

“Three deep breaths. On the third exhale, I go, aye?”

One. She thought of her uncle Lamb taking her to Egypt to explore a tomb. Two. The scent of blood and bile from her first triage as an army nurse. Three. The solid feel of Fraser as he settled into position.

The air rushed from her lungs along with the cry she muffled in Fraser’s shoulder as he grasped the visible end of the shrapnel and pulled. The world was spinning, the rush of blood in her ears mingling with her labored breathing and the pounding of Fraser’s heart under her ear. As if from a distance, she heard him mumbling as he pressed her necktie to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. His other hand left her elbow, moving gently to her back. He was so warm against her cold skin and she shuddered. 

The sound of his voice drew her attention, but she had no idea what he was saying. Whatever it was, she found it soothing, along with his hand caressing her back as he gave her time to get a hold of herself. Embarrassed, she pulled away from him and avoided his eye, instead turning to her wound for inspection. 

“Nicely done, Fraser,” she said after clearing her throat. “I’m afraid I’ll need some stitches.”

“We dinna have the time or the supplies. And it won’t be safe here for long. We need to get moving.”

Using his own necktie, he secured her makeshift bandage in place and helped her back into her shirt. She decided not to point out that he’d grazed the side of one breast as he’d aided her. He was doing his best to help her and she didn’t want to cause him further embarrassment. 

Properly dressed once more, she took a long breath. Fraser got to his feet and offered his hand.

“On your feet, soldier.”


End file.
